Saving Dallas
by Phlossy
Summary: After accidently posting this before it's time, I'm posting it now! Dallas is an alchoholic teen taking harbor in the Curtis household. What happens when Darry gets sick of Dallas' problem and decides to do something about it? [Rating for alchoholrelated
1. Chapter 1

Hi, fans of my work (and that of Night Lady, too)! I finally wrote a multi-chapter story. Very hard. Lol. Anyway, I don't own the outsiders… Unfortunately! Lol. Anyway, here is, without further ado, Saving Dallas

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Dallas had made it through being shot. Barely. Everyone had thought that the teenager had met his match in seven gunshot wounds, some of them should have been fatal, but weren't. Dallas, however, had taken to other means to try and dull the pain of losing the only person he had ever, truly, cared about.

He had always been a bit of a binge drinker, sometimes bordering on an alcoholic, but now he was way past the verge on 'alcoholic'. Dallas had turned into a raging drunk. Every time he was drunk enough to forget the pain, he was also so shit-faced that life was like a permanent hangover.

This morning Darryl Curtis heard the typical morning alarm of retching echoing out of the tiled bathroom. It had become a morning routine: Darry would wake up to the sounds of Dally's throwing up last night's alcohol intake, then get him a glass of water and 2 aspirin, then go wake up Sodapop if he was working, and if it was a week-day, Ponyboy too.

This morning Darry heard a new sound. It was nearly muffled by the sound of vomit hitting water, but there is was. Darry had heard it enough times in his life to know that Dallas Winston was crying. For the first time in over 6 months of the morning routine, as it had been dubbed, Darry didn't know what to do for the tow-headed teen.

Dallas was sick. Not just from the beer, whiskey and wine he had downed last night, but from everything. He was tired of the throbbing physical pain in his head, only dulled by two aspirins now. He was sick of the mental pain of losing Johnny, and even sicker of himself.

Dallas had always hated everything about his family, from his mother's tramp ways to his father's nearly constant comatose state of drunkenness. But now he wondered if his father had a reason for being so drunk all the time. Dally knew that he was bordering on become his father, Johnny's father and Steve's father all rolled into one drunk bastard, and didn't like it one bit. He had hit Sylvia last night, and he never hit girls before. He needed help, but damn himself if he was going to ask for it, or even except it if it was offered.

Another spasm shook him as he threw up more liquor and unidentifiable substances. It was mostly whiskey, as it was the fastest working and he was hardly sober enough to eat anymore. Oh, how he hated being sober! It was that annoying little state between morning and partying all night, subdued only by bottles of beer that Two-Bit always had.

Darry padded into the bathroom, his feet making barely a sound on the carpet. Dallas didn't even see him. It was truly a pathetic sight. Dal kneeled in front of the toilet, his forearms resting on the seat, heavily breathing. The teen's bare torso was thin and marred by several large round scars-the remnants of 'that night' as they all referred to it. His ribs stuck out a bit, and his backbone showed. He was pale, too. And crying. Sobbing in fact. Darry had never seen him cry before.

He walked over to the linen closet and pulled out a blue towel and the aspirin hidden behind the towels, and walked over to Dally. "Here." he said, handing the boy the towel. He waved it off frantically as he heaved once more. When he was done he took the towel. He wiped off his chin and sat back on his heels.

Darry studied his friend's face with concern as he filled a small paper Dixie cup with water, and handed it and two large white pills to the boy. Dallas' face was pale and sickly looking. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and small dark flecks marred his face, evidence of the morning routine. Dirt smudged one cheek. A small, clean wet tear trail lead through the dirty side.

Dallas knew what was coming, but he needed to say it. It was as though someone else was speaking for him, saying the words he now whispered. "Darry, help me. I need help." and with that, he promptly burst into tears even harder.

Darry didn't know what to do other than hug the young man. He sank to his knees and roughly pulled Dallas into a hug, holding him while he cried. Dallas sobbed into Darry's shoulder, begging for help. "Don't worry, Dal. I'll get it for you. Don't worry."

Darry held Dallas until he pulled away, wiping his tears. Automatically the thick facade was up again. He downed the aspirin and uttered a gruff, "I'm gonna go lay down". Darry sighed and shook his head. He woke Sodapop up, since it was his day to work, and Ponyboy, as well, since the young man had school.

After both boys were gone, Darry retreated to his room to make some phone calls. First he phoned the police. They didn't help much. All they did was laugh at him and tell him that Dallas Winston would never reform. Then he called the hospital. They instructed him to call a detox facility located a few miles away or try AA meetings. Darry automatically dismissed AA. Dallas would never go to a meeting of 'alkies' to talk out his feelings.

Darry phoned Blackwell Detox Facility, a small group of people who worked specifically with teenagers like Dallas. They whole-heartedly agreed to help him for up to three months, and no fee was necessary as it was a non-profit organization. It all seemed perfect. He arranged to meet the facility managers the next day.

Blackwell had no obvious markings. It could have been an old school, or something like that, and aside from the sign that read 'Blackwell Facility' in bold black lettering, he saw no others markers. The place seemed nice enough. Each patient got their own room, and they shared a cafeteria... All in all, it was like a boarding school almost.

The only two problems that he faced was either getting Dallas to sign the papers, or getting custody of Dallas... Or getting his father to sign the papers. Also, getting Dally into the building would be a problem. Either way, first things first: to get the paperwork done.

Darry filled out the paperwork, all except for the signatures. That he did after he left. He drove over to Dallas' house (not that he spent much time there) and spoke to his mother. She wouldn't sign the paperwork. He asked her if Mr. Winston had signed anything recently. She gave a tearful nod and produced a check receipt for the local liquor store. Darry smiled and thanked her. He would convince the old man that he had signed the paperwork when he had been drunk or so. For now, he had to go home and work on forging these things.

The forgery itself was pretty simple: outline, copy and then write. It was nearly a carbon-copy. Darry drove the paperwork over to the BF, as he liked to call it now. They looked at him a bit odd when he turned the paperwork in, but didn't ask questions. "Now, Mr. Winston," they said, not quite believing him, "You'll need to sign your brother in here. And here, and here." they said, as Darry filled in the appropriate names in the blanks.

They gave a nod and filed the papers. "Now, I have a question. Do you do pick up services? There is no way I will be able to get Dallas in here." he said. The receptionist gave a chuckle and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry Mr. Winston. Perhaps if you bring him in after he's passed out." she said, and returned to her filings. Darry nodded. "When should I bring him in?" he asked. The receptionist looked at a chart on the wall. "About 7:30 tomorrow morning would be fine." Darry nodded and walked out into the parking lot.

He wasn't sure he wanted to do this to Dallas. It would definitely hurt their relationship as friends, but something had to be done before Dally died from alcohol poisoning, which Darry feared was what he wanted.

He inserted the key into the pickup's lock and opened the door. He could tell that Dallas borrowed the truck the night before because of the stench of beer that reeked from the seat - which he thought must have had a bottle spilled on it. Thank god he didn't get caught. They would have impounded the truck.

Dally groaned at the sudden light from the door opening. He had a throbbing migraine that just wouldn't go away. "Goin' out partying tonight?" Darry asked. Dallas nodded. "Anything to get drunk..."

Darry was awake at 2 o'clock that morning, when Dally finally stumbled through the door. He had been fighting again. A large purple bruise blossomed on the side of his face and blood trickled form a cut above his eye.

He stumbled over to the couch and flopped onto it, laughing hysterically in a drunken way and slurring a re-count of the fight to Darry, who wasn't in the least bit interested and was wetting a paper towel to dab at the cut. Dallas hardly noticed as his friend cleaned the wound, but kept on talking, if you could call the slurred sounds speech. A few moments after that, Dally lay down and passed out.

Darry heaved a sigh or relief. This wasn't going to be easy. He had let in Sodapop and Ponyboy on the plan, and they in turn told Steve and Two-Bit. Darry groaned when he found out that Two-Bit knew. He was sure that ol' Two-Bit would tip Dally off, but he didn't. Two-Bit didn't like being out-drank, which Dally often did to him.

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Alright, guys. That was chapter one. There is one more chapter to come, and an epilauge. I'm one of the wonderful writers who writes the stories I post before I acutally post them! Now, then, please reveiw. I love constructive criticism. All flames will be used to burn my report card.


	2. Chapter 2

At 7 o'clock they managed to get Dallas into the car. He had woken up early that morning, around five. They told him that they were going for a beer run and wanted him to come along. He heartily agreed. Now the only problem would be getting him into the place. Steve fixed that problem.

"Ponyboy, you and Soda run down there and move the sign so he can't see it, or put something' in front of it. Just so he can't see it." Sodapop nodded and hustled Ponyboy into a car that some fool had left on the street with the keys still in it. They drove down in record time, using the back roads and managed to park the vehicle in front of the sign. Thank god for tinted windows and low speed limits. Darry pulled in just moments afterwards.

Dally stumbled out of the car. He reeked of liquor and was still visibly drunk. "Where's tha beer?" he said, loudly. "Just inside, buddy." Steve said, picking him up from the pavement where he had fallen getting out of the truck. Dally nodded. "I wan... I wan... vodka!" he said, nearly yelling the last word. "Sure thing..." Two-Bit said.

Darry went in first and signed Dally in. The receptionist looked relieved. "I thought you wouldn't show." she said. "You were so sure you wouldn't be able to get him here." she continued. He went to the door and waved for the other boys. Two-Bit and Steve supported Dallas as he was having trouble walking. Sodapop and Ponyboy had opened the double doors.

"Hey! There ain' no beer ere!" Dally mumbled, trying to get away from them once he saw that he was in a waiting room. "Dally! Calm down, buddy!" Steve said. Darry turned to the receptionist who had just ordered two orderlies to come to the reception area. "I told you so." he said. She gave a feeble grin.

L

The two orderlies had managed to get Dallas into a room. It was an observation room. He couldn't go anywhere without being seen. The doctors told the gang that they would not be allowed to see Dallas for two weeks. They wouldn't be allowed to talk to him, even through phone calls or letters. They had best say what they had to say today, when Dally sobered up enough to understand.

Dally sat on the edge of a hospital-style cot, his hands shaking as he tried to light a smoke. He just couldn't get the matches to get to the end of the cigarette. That was if he could even get them to strike, the shakes were so bad.

They all visibly paled at the sight. It was pathetic. "Don't worry about them. They'll go away once he's de-toxed." the doctor said. Ponyboy nodded. "Can I talk to him, please?" Darry asked. Tears were welled up in his eyes. The doc nodded and pushed open a door.

Darry walked in the door, and Dallas immediately decided that he was the enemy. "Why did you do this to me?" he asked, barely above a whisper. Darry was almost balling. "You needed help, Da-" "NO I DIDN'T!" Dallas screamed, throwing a punch at Darry. To everyone's amazement, Darry did nothing. He took the feeble punch.

He knew for certain that the teen was weaker now. Before Darry probably would have been felled by the weight of Dally's punches. Now he didn't even shake his head. "Dal, calm down." he said, quietly, while tears rolled down his face. He wanted to sob. He wanted to check Dally out. He wanted someone to justify what he had just done to the boy who had already been through so much. But he couldn't find anyone or anything to do that in here.

"Please, Darry. Please, get me out of here. You put me here, now, damnit, get me out." Dally said, sobbing now. Darry shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Dallas. I wish I could, but I can't. You need help. You're going to get it here." Dally didn't answer him. Darry tried to brush a hand over the blonde hair on the boy's head, but he moved his head when Darry approached.

Darry was almost out of the door when he heard Dallas speak. "You know something, Darryl? You want to know something? I hate you. I really do. I hate your fucking guts." Darry let out a strangled sob and walked out of the room. It was the best thing he could do for the angry alcoholic teen bent of self destruction.

L

When Dallas was allowed to have visitors, he refused them. He wouldn't see the gang at all. Not even Ponyboy or Two-Bit or Sodapop. He did see Tim Shepherd once, but Tim never came back after that. Dallas was released after 3 months, a sobered up man. The Detox unit had called Darry to let him know that he was released, but that was all.

Dallas didn't come back after that. He had run off, it seemed. No one ever heard anything from him, not even a peep about him. It seemed that he had run off from Tulsa all together.

20 years passed, in which Two-Bit had sobered up, mostly, Darry had gone to college (but found it very different from high school and didn't like it much, although he stayed), Sodapop had met-and married- a girl name Kelly Winchester from Virginia who was attending college with Darry, Ponyboy had graduated from high school and a 4 year college and was working for children's welfare, and Steve had gotten Evie pregnant and had to marry her. They should have gotten divorced 3 days after they married in everyone's opinion.

The Gang had all grown up, but they still thought tenderly and fondly of Johnny, and wonderingly about Dallas. He would be thirty seven now... Ponyboy walked out of the house he still shared with Darry to get the mail. He pulled out a semi-thick wad of envelopes, shuffling through them on his way back to the house and into the kitchen. He was standing next to the table when he reached the last envelope.

Their address was scrawled not-so-neatly across the center. Ponyboy didn't recognize the return address. He may have had their name, but there wasn't. Casually he opened the envelope and a letter on yellow legal pad slipped out. It was only a single sheet of paper, and it was very short, but it was a letter.

_Dear Guys, _

The letter started. Ponyboy raised an eyebrow. Obviously whoever this was knew them. He glanced down at the bottom, adn his heart nearly stopped. In scrawling ink, much like the letter, Dally's name stood out with perfect clarity.

_Coming to see you guys._

_Need to talk about some shit._

_Will show up later._

_Dally_

It was hardly even a letter. More like a note, but who cared. Dally was back! He hurriedly dialed the numbers on the phone for Darry's workplace. "Darry!" he yelled into the phone, obviously excited. "Dally's coming back!" Darry's breath came short. He paled. "What?" "He's coming back, Dar! He's really coming back! I have it in my hand in ink and paper!" _click_. The phone went dead. Darry had hung up on him, but he didn't care.

He raced down to the DX where Sodapop and Steve still worked. They looked up as his car's wheels screeched on the pavement. "What the hell--" Steve started. Then they raced over to Ponyboy to see what was wrong that caused him to screech in like that.

"Guys! He's back!" He yelped. "What? Who's back?" Sodapop said at the same time as Steve said, "Who came back?" Both men were now confused. "Dally! Dally's coming back, damnit!" Ponyboy said, showing them the letter. Soda gave a whoop and snatched the document from his brother and read it, Steve reading over his shoulder. All three men raced to high school to tell Two-Bit.

He was nearly as ecstatic as them. Eventually they all calmed down and went back to their respective jobs and Ponyboy went home.

A few days later, everyone was lounging when they heard a car pull up. "Soda, get the door!" Darry called from upstairs where he was getting some bills done. "Whatever!" he said, then "Steve! Get the door!" Steve shook his head. "Make Two-Bit get it." He shook his head and pointed at Ponyboy, who sighed and was making his way to the door when it opened.

Dallas Winston walked in the door. Everyone froze. The only sound that came was from the TV. Darry walked down the stairs to see who had died and stopped the racket his friends were making. He stopped halfway down the stairs when he saw what had stopped the noise.

Dally's white-blonde hair was slightly darker now, and he had two small children and a brunette woman in toe. One of the children, a little girl, was riding on his hip. She looked just like him. He set her down. "Well, now... This is awkward." he muttered. "Daddy, are we going to get ice cream after this?" the little boy asked. "shh." his mother said. They all walked into the house.

"D-d-dally?" Steve asked. "Steve." Dallas said, nodding in his direction. "Actually, I wanted to talk to Darry." Darry gulped, and then nodded, gesturing upstairs. He and Dallas disappeared upstairs.

"Mommy, who are these people?" the little boy wined. "I don't know, honey. They're Daddy's friends." his mother replied. The gang was dumbfounded. The woman was wearing Dally's ring, as well as a wedding band. A matching one had been on Dallas' hand. And these two children! Who would have thought that Dally would have children? Let alone a wife?

Suddenly, the little girl jumped up and ran over to the TV. "Mickey's on! Mickey's on!" she yelped, seating herself in front of the TV. The 38 year old greaser who she was sitting in front of merely raised an eyebrow.

It was an ice-breaker. The gang, the woman, and the two children were soon talking. A few minutes later, Dallas and Darry reappeared. "Ready to go, sweetie?" Dally said, picking the little girl up again, whose eyes were still glued to the TV. "No, Daddy!" she whined. "Mickey's on!" He laughed and put her down, but she stayed by his side and didn't return to the front of the TV.

"Glad to see you all, but we've go to get going. Gotta get to Phoenix by tomorrow night." he said, taking the little girl's hand and walking out of the house. They all gathered around the window, watching a beat-up black car leave the front of the house.


	3. Chapter 3

EPILAUGE

It was truly the last time that anyone every saw Dally, or his family. Every now and then a letter would appear, but there was never a return address. The letters stopped coming, eventually, in 1996, when Dallas should have turned 47. The last letter was from a lawyer's address, and it was as such:

_Dear Mr. Curtis,_

_I regret to inform you of the passing of Mr. Dallas Winston. In his will he leaves you in possession of a small wooden box of assorted items. It should be following shortly, and you should receive it by the 6th of June. If it is not received the aforementioned box, promptly send a letter and we will do our best to track it down. Enclosed in this letter is a key for the lock on the box. _

_Our Deepest Sympathy, _

_Martin J. Browne Jr., _

_The Law Offices of Martin J. Browne Sr. & Sons_

True to Mr. Browne's letter, a small package arrived later that week. Enclosed in the package was the small wooden box, which they decided they should be around for. Darry placed it on the kitchen table later that night, and turned the key. A small 'click' was heard from the lock, and Darry lifted the lid of the small box, roughly 8 inches long, 5 inches wide, and about 3 inches tall. All that was inside was a small note, a newspaper article or two and five photographs.

One photograph showed the entire gang. Everyone remembered when that picture was taken: it had been a few months before the death of Mr. & Mrs. Curtis. They had all been posing out front of the lot and a neighbor had taken the photo for them. Mr. And Mrs. Curtis smiled from the back.

The second photo showed Dally and Tim Shepherd clowning around. Curly had taken that one. It was actually quite good of a photo of Dally. He was smiling and happy, even. So was Tim. Then there was a photo of Johnny and Ponyboy day-dreaming. Then there was a family portrait of Dally's family, probably taken not that long ago. In it both his children were teenagers, and the girl looked even more like Dally. Dally looked fairly ragged around the edges, evidence of his hard life and his teen alcoholism.

The last photo was of Dally, standing in front of a middle-class ranch style house, smiling at the camera, with a black puppy in his arms. They guessed it was his house and his dog. He had always wanted a dog.

The oldest newspaper article was from the Tulsa Times. It was the report of the Windrexville fire, and the "Hoods Turned Heroes". Then there was Johnny's obituary. And finally, the announcement of Dally's wedding, and of his children's' births.

Last was the note. It was addressed to Darry, and he opened it. Six short words and four punctuation marks were written in Dally's classic scrawl. It read:

_Darry, _

_Thank you. For everything. _

_-Dally_


End file.
